


Masterpiece

by Idzzdi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Art, Awkwardness, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idzzdi/pseuds/Idzzdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„I would shake your hand, but the sign over there says not to touch the masterpieces.“</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been a gazillion years. As always when I write, I've got a huge exam in the morning. Seems to be the best inspiration, haha.
> 
> Anyway, to everyone's surpise this is NOT A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL. I know, I can't believe it myself.
> 
> Enjoy, party people!

„I would shake your hand, but the sign over there says not to touch the masterpieces.“

At first Louis doesn't even realize he's being spoken to. The silence after the statement lingers too long though and he turns to look at the boy standing to his left. The boy isn't looking at him, just staring straight forward at the painting on he wall.

Louis looks around just to be sure that the boy really was talking to him and when he finds that they're pretty much alone in this section of the museum he squeaks out an eloquent “What?”.

A small smile curls onto the boy's lips and he looks at the painting for another moment before turning towards Louis.

“'m Harry, hi,” he says, holding out his hand towards Louis. When he hesitates a moment too long that other boy – _Harry_ – laughs.

“Com'on shake my hand, it's just a stupid, uh, ice breaker line,” he grins.

“It's a pickup line, 's what it is,” Louis replies and turns back towards the painting without shaking Harry's hand.

“Oh, don't frown, dumpling.”

Seriously, Louis thinks, this guy is ridiculous.

“Give a lad a chance to get friendly with you,” Harry tries again and Louis only rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I don't want to be gotten friendly with,” he replies, making a face at the weirdly constructed sentence and turning his body to walk over to the next painting.

“Of course you do!” he hears Harry protest from behind him. “You're alone in a museum with you cheekbones and cute little scoop neck top and your _face_ , shitting all over everyone else's attempts to look even remotely good next to you. What else would you be here for if not to get hit on?”

Louis turns and stares blankly at him.

“We're at a _museum_ , for god's sake!” he says, his eyebrows pulled up high enough to be hidden by his fringe.

“Yeah, okay, I know,” Harry relents with a grin. “Caught your attention though, didn't it?”

All Louis can do is give him another eye roll and then strut over to the next painting, even though he certainly didn't have enough time or peace and quite to really take in the last one just yet. But he just can't keep standing next to cute face with his freaking _dimples_ while not losing the pretense of being the untouchable ice queen he likes to think himself to be.

He focuses hard on the swirls of blue and green, twisting into plants and a lake in the background and he really tries not to look, but the silence drags on and on and Louis just has to turn his head. Harry is stood silently next to him, looking back at Louis with a small smile.

“What?” Louis snarls, taking a step away from Harry but the boy just follows timidly. “You gonna follow me around all day or what?”

“If I have to,” Harry shots back and his face twists into a grin as he follows Louis over to the next painting.

They continue on like this for a couple more paintings an then some sculptures. Harry keeps quiet this whole time, but Louis can't help but notice that whenever he chances a glance in the general direction of the boy that he never looks at the art in front of him. He's watching Louis instead.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Louis asks eventually, trying not to notice how Harry quirks up at Louis' attempt to start a conversation.

“School project,” he says with a shrug. “'m supposed to write about my favorite foreign painter from the 18th century.”

“Oh, which one did you pick?” Louis asks, honestly curious. What kind of art one likes defines them very much as a person, Louis believes.

Next to him Harry splutters.

“Do people actually have favorite painters? From a certain century?” he asks, half in disbelieve and half with a smile on his face, like he can't quite grasp if Louis' mocking him or not.

“Obviously,” Louis replies sternly. Harry only blinks at him.

“Uh,” he coughs, nodding aimlessly. “My favorite is Gian Lorenzo Ber-” he flails, clearly reading from the little info card by the sculpture they're stood next to right now.

“Bernini. He just goes by Bernini. He's not a painter and he also died about 100 years too early to be part of your project,” Louis tells him, chuckling a bit.

“I knew that,” Harry tells him, pushing out his chest in a ridiculous way. “The Spanish were glad to have him around to sculpt their.. sculptures,” he finishes sadly and lets out a laugh.

“The Italians,” Louis corrects him, still amused. “You know nothing about art, do you?”

Harry huffs angrily at him, looking adorably flustered and frustrated at the same time.

“You're the show off hipster kid who looks like he's really into art, but actually he doesn't even know that the Ninja Turtles were named after some of the greatest Italian artist of all time,” Louis teases on and Harry looks like he's about to say “No way!” but stops himself mid thought and only growls at Louis.

“Who would you recommend then? For the project.”

“Hm, don't know really. Do you have a favorite period of art then?”

Harry raises his eyebrows up and gives Louis shrug with an apologetic smile.

“Do you like drawings of nature? Things that looks realistic? Or more abstract? Age of Enlightenment? Romanticism?”

“That sounds good!” Harry cuts in. “I can be romantic alright,” he tells Louis with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Romanticism has nothing to do with your concept of romance, you know that right?” Louis asks him and Harry nods solemnly, every certainly oblivious to what the era is actually about.

“Let's go then,” Louis says and turns on his heel, walking straight across the room and down another hallway to where he know the paintings he's looking for are kept. Harry follows quietly, watching Louis with big eyes until he halts in front of one specific painting and motions towards it.

“There,” he says, prompting Harry to take a look. “' _Moonrise Over The Sea_ ' by Casper David Friedrich.”

Harry steps a bit closer, taking good long look at the painting before turning back towards Louis.

“Looks a bit gloomy to me,” he says, making a face at the dark colors of the painting.

“That's the 18th century for you,” Louis replies with half a grin. Harry seems to consider that statement for a moment.

“I don't like it,” he finally says, looking at the painting for another moment before turning back towards Louis.

“You can't just _not like_ Casper David Friedrich. He's _the_ painter. He pretty much embodies the Romanticism,” Louis says very seriously and he _is_ actually being serious, but Harry only laughs at him.

“What?” he shoots angrily, as the other boy only keeps on giggling.

“You're so cute. You're so passionate about art,” he says with another giggle, squeezing Louis' side. The small boy squirms away, giving him an angry look.

“If only you were half as passionate about me as you are about that Casper guy,” Harry says with a sly grin and Louis lets out a huff of air.

“Casper David Friedrich,” he says, flailing his arms around.

“Yeah, I should probably note that down,” Harry says, pulling out his phone and typing away, to probably safe the artist’s name. “While I'm at it, should I also note down your number, or..?” he asks with a smug, but admittedly cute, look on his face. Louis only flips him off.

“Note down _my ass_ , 's what you can do,” he snarls, realizing half a second too late that maybe this isn't the greatest comeback.

“I'd love to,” Harry replies right away, stepping closer again.

“Leave me alone, you giant oaf,” Louis huffs, pushing Harry off him and walking away as fiercely yet appropriate as he can. It's _not_ to swing his hips a little more then necessary. It's not.

He's half way down the corridor before Harry catches up with him.

“Okay, okay,” the boy huffs, holding up his hands defensively as he walks backwards in front of Louis, forcing him to look at him. “No more funny business. However, I do need to know your name, so I can mention you in the sources.” He grins like he thinks he's being very clever and Louis tells him so.

“I am though, aren't I?” Harry only shoots back and grins even wider.

“You're not, and I not your source and if you were half as persistent about finishing your project as you were about getting my number you'd be done already.”

Harry completely ignores the second half of Louis' sentence. “Yes, you _are_ my source. Very reliable. My source of inspiration so to say.” He grins and Louis has a really hard time not being intrigued right now.

“Some may even say you're my muse,” Harry adds, followed by another inappropriate wiggle of his eyebrows.

“You're the worst, did anyone ever tell you that?” Louis asks as he pushes out of the museum and steps into the fresh air, Harry right behind him.

“People tend to think of me as very charming,” Harry puts in, grinning happily with his stupid, stupid dimples. Louis can see why people think of him as charming, mostly because he _is_. No need to tell the smiling ray of sunshine in front of him though.

“People must be deluded,” Louis says instead, but he doesn't think it comes across as very snide, because Harry's grin only widens.

“I'll show you my take on Romanticism, if you want to,” he says bluntly, his grin turning crooked.

“Give those eyebrows a rest, will you?” Louis says and in response to that of course Harry only wiggles them again and does he ever stop smiling like Louis is the best thing that happened to him all week?

Louis gives him another stern look and then turns around to start walking away.

“Will you tell me your name if I promise not to follow you home?” Harry asks behind him and this time Louis actually has to laugh.

“You will _not_ follow me home,” is all Louis says, sparing a quick look over his shoulder, but Harry is still stood in front of the museum, looking after Louis.

“Try me,” he shoots back, crooked grin plastered across his perfect face. Louis stops and turns around to face the boy, several feet away from him now.

“You will stay right here,” he tells his again, trying to sound serious and not really sure why he's failing so bad at it.

“Make me,” Harry replies and well did he really have to pick the most sexual-tension-ly loaded phrase Louis could think of? All he can do is roll his eyes at the boy.

“My name's Louis,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Great, Louis,” Harry says, taking a few steps towards him again. “Now just your number and promise to let me take you out for dinner, and you're free to go.”

“Cheater,” Louis accuses, crossing his hands in front of his chest. “You said you just wanted my name.”

“Well, you should know me better than that by now,” Harry shrugs, stepping even closer until he's within reaching distance

“I've know you for like half a hour!”

“And I still don't have your number, which is scandalous, considering how bloody sexy you are. So,” he prompts and holds up his phone, ready to note down Louis' number.

“You're a creepy stalker and I'm not just about to give you my number,” Louis huffs, only slightly leaning towards Harry's tall frame.

“Yes, you are,” the boy replies easily, lightly tilting the display and shooting an expecting look towards Louis.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” Louis huffs and the recites his number for Harry to put into his phone.

“See,” Harry chirps, once he's saved Louis' number and stowed his phone away in his front pocket. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“Can I go now?” Louis asks and it's supposed to be huffy and supposed to be mean, like he really wants to go. Except he doesn't, of course, because Harry is crazy endearing and so spectacularly strange, that Louis doesn't in fact want to leave.

And in all of Harry's craziness he also seems to be able to look right through Louis' bullshit. And so he squeezes Louis' side lightly before wrapping and arm around his waist and pulling to shorter boy with him.

“No, I'm afraid not. We're getting coffee. And then I'll drag you to my place to help me with my art project. I have a feeling you could be really kind of helpful.”

“I'm not gonna do your homework for you, lazy ass,” Louis replies, but lets Harry pull him down the road towards the nearest coffee shop anway.

“I'm gonna pay you in coffee?” Harry offers with a grin. Louis makes a noncommittal noise.

“And sexual favors?” Harry adds and wiggles his eyebrows until to Louis elbows him in the side and Harry clutches his side and doubles over a bit to laugh and huff into Louis' ear which _doesn't_ send a pleasant shiver down Louis spine. It doesn't.

“You're horrible,” Harry laughs, rubbing his ribs where Louis had hit him.

“You're face is horrible,” is all Louis can come up with, because Harry is still holding him close, and they're faces are really close together and Louis' heart is doing this weird thing where it beats very fast. It doesn't get any better when Harry leans in even closer to whisper in his ear.

“And yours is a true masterpiece.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You like? You comment! You kudos!


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